


Let's get lost, you and me

by sleepy_fl0wers



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Comfort No Hurt, Eloping, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, ITS KINDA IMPLIED BUT PLEASE I LOVE THAT TROPE, Im a hopeless romantic and it shows, King George - Freeform, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, No Angst, Pogtopia is mentioned because Pog !!!, Royalty AU, Running Away, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, because sometimes we just need that heavy unresolved romantic tension finally snapping yknow, but im actually not, i dont know, i wrote it in a sitting at 4 am okay im sorry, knight dream, no beta we die like george in manhunt, this is just so so sweet and mushy, why the fuck did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_fl0wers/pseuds/sleepy_fl0wers
Summary: "Please do not fret, My King." He starts. "I have come back to you as soon as the Revolutionists have striked.""You don't happen to be hurt, do you?""I should be the one asking these questions, Your Grace.""Hush now. We must get out of here as soon as we can."The King is now pulling at his hand, intertwining their fingers in a soft manner, and the sounds of explosions may fill the ambient outside of this room, but Dream can't hear it, not as his whole body is burning up, and yet a cold rush of sparks manages to rise through his spine, barely letting him think with a clear head."Your Majesty, but- but your kingdom...""Oh my darling." The King starts with a soft, melancholic smile, and the sweet words that drip through his mouth like honey make Dream's chest fill with delight, and he suddenly feels like he's floating. "There is nothing left other than ashes and wind to be ruled over. We must run now, we must go far away, to a place where their tyranny cannot reach us."Edit 28/12/2020: I decided to switch my fics over to my main account after thnking about it for a while, also, you can follow me on twitter ! i'm @ strawberrypandy there :)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 141





	Let's get lost, you and me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello !!  
> Please, please don't shove the ship into their faces. Not because they're not uncomfortable with it it means we have to be disrespectful. Please, don't even think of sending this or mentioning this (or probably any other work of fiction of this kind, please be respectful to authors.) on any kind of comments or donos to them.
> 
> And ! the moment either of them speak about not feeling comfortable with works published about them anymore, i will gladly delete this completly ! what matters most is the cc's feelings and wishes.
> 
> title is inspired by My Heart is Buried in Venice by Ricky Montgomery because that song is beautiful and it makes me cry let's go !!! i hope you enjoy !!

The calm and quiet emptiness of the halls that lead to the throne room is interrupted by the heavy pounding of footsteps, as Dream runs, chest heaving with gasping breaths, and his face filled to the brim with worry, a frown placed upon his features, and wide eyes that might as well be compared to plates, darting at every corner of the velvet carpets and old-looking paintings.

The heavy armor of the Knight clanking with the fore of each of his strides breaks the stiff air, filling the castle with a sound other than the muffled screaming that seeps through the clear windows of the outside landscape, and the deafening roar of cannons and yells of terror.

Dream just keeps on running nonetheless. He doesn't dart his eyes back, no matter how concerning it might be that there is not a single soul walking through the castle, not as it normally is, brimming with life, filled with chatter and the voice of people that walk around, always having something to do, to deliver, no matter the time, always having a place to be at, always in a rush.

It's bizarre, to look at a place that is supposed to be crowded, now empty.  
It feels wrong, and it makes Dream feel uneasy, only wanting to dart away as fast as possible.

He had no time to prepare for any of this, he had no time to warn anyone, or take care of any defenses, create any strategies, anything. 

He doesn't even know why he wasn't with the King at the time the Revolutionists of Pogtopia started blowing up the castle and nearby installations and troupes with dynamite.  
It was all so quick, one moment he was instructing the squires to practice their dodging and blocking, the next he's running in a frenzy through the halls to get King George to safety.

 _If he even is there still. If he hasn't been taken away yet,_ his brain urges him on, nudging and prying where he doesn't want it to. _please, please, please, just be safe, my King._

This wasn't supposed to turn out like this. 

He climbs the flights of stairs that now only seem endless, and as he finds himself a few turns away from the entrance to the throne room, his fingers feel numb and cold. He can barely feel anything but the waves of panic that crash against his chest, like the tide against the shore, crashing against rocks, and sending drops of salty ocean water flying everywhere. 

He can't afford to lose the King, he simply can't, because- _because…_

No.  
No. No. No. No. No.

No, it's just, the King. It's the King, and he has sworn loyalty to him, and that's simply all. He's the ruler of the land, and Dream is happy to be his knight, he really is, and that's all there is to it.

He hasn't noticed the kind of looks they exchange, the one's he's never seen him gift to any other advisor or servant, and Dream certainly doesn't let his eyes linger upon his face when he looks over his shoulder, and of course he hasn't acknowledged the pressure in his chest and the warmth that spreads through his belly when their eyes meet and neither of them can stop the clash of the intensity of their stares.

He just needs to keep quiet, run faster, as fast as his limbs allow him, and force his brain to _shut the hell up,_ and find the King to protect him.

 _Isn't that what the King's Royal Knight is supposed to do anyways, you imbecile? Protect the King?,_ He asks himself, the knot of concern and anxiety that has been forming in his stomach for the past ten minutes only tightening further.

After what feels like an endless maze of twists and turns on the empty path that leads to the largest room in the palace, he arrives, immediately pushing the large doors open with no further announcements.

He can't help but let out an exhale of relief when he's met with a man turning his back towards him in surprise, beautiful brown eyes meeting the white mask covering his face, and he can feel himself melting on the spot. 

He hates the expression King George wears on his face.  
He looks worried, his eyebrows furrowed in a frown and his lips sewed shut with uncertainty and fear. But the moment he lays eyes on his Knight, he eases up, and lets out a quick huff of a breath, like he's letting go off a giant weight that resides in his shoulders.

"My King!" Dream exclaims, the words simply exiting his throat, rolling off his tongue naturally before he has even commanded them to exit, and he immediately, with no doubt at all, runs to the other side of the room towards him.

"Sir Dream! Where on Earth were you?" The King exclaims, trying to seem upset, -mad, even.- but his gaze reflects nothing but relief once Dream kneels in front of him briefly, his head bowed down in an act of formality, but George is long over that, so he pulls him up by the arm, and holds onto him for dear life. 

Dream is taken aback, but he can't find it within himself to say a thing, not when the warmth of the King's palm is placed upon his forearm, not when the touch is electrified and heavy in the most wonderful of ways.

"Please do not fret, My King." He starts. "I have come back to you as soon as the Revolutionists have striked."

"You don't happen to be hurt, do you?"

"I should be the one asking these questions, Your Grace."

"Hush now. We must get out of here as soon as we can."

The King is now pulling at his hand, intertwining their fingers in a soft manner, and the sounds of explosions may fill the ambient outside of this room, but Dream can't hear it, not as his whole body is burning up, and yet a cold rush of sparks manages to rise through his spine, barely letting him think with a clear head.

"Your Majesty, but- but your kingdom..."

"Oh my darling." The King starts with a soft, melancholic smile, and the sweet words that drip through his mouth like honey make Dream's chest fill with delight, and he suddenly feels like he's floating. "There is nothing left other than ashes and wind to be ruled over. We must run now, we must go far away, to a place where their tyranny cannot reach us."

"Your Grace-"

"I am not a king, nor a ruler anymore, My Knight. There has never been a need for these formalities between us."

Dream feels like he drowns, but it's a sensation that fills every small nerve of his body, bubbling with something he can't quite place a name for, but it's intoxicating, so he allows himself to fall, just for a second.

"George, my beloved." He corrects himself, and it's been so long since he has yearned to say his King's name like this, no titles, no formalities, just the two of them, together and united in a way he doesn't ever want to share with anyone else other than him.

"We can't possibly just leave L'manburg like this. This is our home," Dream whispers, because they've drifted oh so close, to the point where he can observe each and every emotion that drifts through George's face, every soft flicker of adoration that drips from his smile, and he can even feel the warmth of his hands that ghost over his mask, with uncertainty, but a drive filled with so much determination he can only hold his breath.

"Oh, do not be silly, my dear."  
George smiles, that beautiful beam of sunshine that makes Dream's heart face in a second, and so he places his hands on top of his beloved's, pulling the mask up at the same time as him. "My Knight, you are my one true home."

The world becomes so much clearer after. 

For a second he can gaze at the windows of the palace, the sky tinted in red, and the screams of terror still ringing in his ears.

But, after all, his gaze always ends up going back to his sunshine, and this time it is not an exception.  
George's eyes flow with what he can only describe as adoration, and Dream can feel the softness of his hands against his cheeks, cupping them like he's the most wonderful being in the world, like he holds the melodies of the universe within his eyes, and his freckles are each and every one sprinkled with the remains of the stars in the sky.

His heart spills with love.

So, he dares lean in, he dares close the distance between them, what feels like the space between planets and meteors before they collide, and presses his lips against George's to steal his breath away from his mouth.

They dance together, in a melody only they know the tune to, the rhythm a hidden secret only they have the key to unlock, and it's wonderful.

Dream's heart skips a beat as he lifts his arms, wrapping them around George's neck softly. He tastes of vanilla and unspoken words, and the world fades away, disappears.

He can't concentrate, his mind blank, intoxicated with the feeling of George’s figure against his. The contact makes his head spin, and his stomach is consumed by a wave of contentment he's never experienced before.

They shift in each other's grasp, cling to this, to everything they've longed for, to their lips pressed together and the hushed whispers that surge after they've pulled apart, heavy breathing filling the air as George clings to his face as his hands cup it, and Dream's own hands softly pull at the back of his neck, at his hair, just to be impossibly closer to him.

"Oh, my love..." A breathless whisper dripping in adoration and warmth. They chase the feel of the other in a kiss, the dam broken, and the need to say everything that has been exchanged wordlessly out loud now that they're free from any judging look prickling at their skin like goosebumps.

Dream is breathless. George is breathtaking.  
It's a perfect contrast, if he says so himself.

He feels alive, his heart beating, his lungs expand as he gasps for air, and he can feel George's breath on his lips. He dives back in, movements desperate and quick, heavy with want.

The sound of an impossibly loud explosion pries them apart centimeters. Their foreheads are touching, and Dream pulls George towards his chest, surrounding him with his arms, pulling at his shoulders, and he realizes, that if they're really going to do this, to run away together, they need to do it _in this instant._

"My dear, we must go now." Dream declares, after the sound of orders being yelled outside through the halls and the doors to different rooms being open makes him alert.

"Yes, of course," George answers. "May you lead the way, my Knight."

Dream can't stop himself from smiling as he takes his King's, his everything's hand into his own.

"Of course, My King."

He once swore he would risk his life for the King of L'manburg. He swore he would protect him no matter the cost, stay guarding his back, and follow his every order.

He doesn't know at what point the loyalty, and duty turned into adoration, into genuine grins and the gentleness of devotion, the irrevocable tug of his heartstrings when he gazes at the crinkling of his King's eyes, with his sweet words and sweeter smiles, and he certainly doesn't know at what point he became lucky enough for the softness and simple loving nature of his looks to be returned, but he certainly feels grateful. 

Dream gazes back at him, as they run through the forest together, and he's happy he is no longer his Knight, and George no longer his King.  
He's happy he's no longer beside George, because he has sworn loyalty, because he must follow his orders, because he's below him.

They're now equals. They stand next to one another, with the steady pull of love tugging at his bones, entertaining in his ribcage with security that beats to the same melody as his heart.

Besides, husband does have a better ring to it than anything else could.


End file.
